The air is streaming, I strangley find comfort in it, comfort in it's simplicity that calms my hardest nights. My minds still thinking of yesterday, its never in the present, its something I should learn to accept. My heart is steady, thats why I love the morning, right when I wake up everything is irrelevant for all but two seconds but I treasure those two seconds. But all good things must come to an end. My morning alarm with it's whining tone sends ripples through my body. Just make it stop. I lean forward and and end up unplugging it from the wall thats how badly I wanted it to stop, to stop reminding me of the day ahead of me, of what awaits wether I like it or not. It's still happening. So I get up from my bed and welcome myself to my dreadful reality it's the first day of the eleventh grade and i'm so in over my head in thinking I might not hate every second of it. But I will. Welcome to my life.
Every year is the same, painfully the same. You show up to school all the prissy girls will have fun or what I secretly think (pretend to have fun) with their friends, having lives...maybe I'm just jealous. But im not. I just can't understand the concept of happiness. I never have. Next the teachers lecture you, they pour out wonderful monotoned speeches on things we will probably never need to learn in the future, on plainly wasting our time for the heck of it. And at the end of the day the feeling is always the same. I relish coming home and feeling my soft bed cover once again, but then the feeling that has sadly now become a mutual part of my life for the past couple months after Michael's death re-enters, the pain. But my life continues on, bluntly, disregarding everything I feel. But imagine this day is replayed every day of my life, never ending again and again with no change, no alter. It's exactly how I feel every second of every hour of every day.
But today was different.
I woke up today all in the same manner, all with the same intent but today I had another blunt reminder of my pain and loss, but as well another blunt reminder of hope, or at least thats what I hoped.
As soon as I reached the bus stop something felt different. Maybe it was the newly paved sidewalk, or the mist in the air, or the sound of my feet crossing the freshly mowed lawn. But these are all reasons I tell myself as an escuse for my embarassed heart, but the real reason is simple. He was looking at me. I don't even know him, he dosent know me, what does it matter right? Well at that second in time something in my mind decided that it mattered I even smiled back for a milasecond before realizing how completely foolish I was being. And then realizing that was the first time I had smiled in ages. I had forgotten what it was like, it almost felt foreign to me. But deffinitely uplifting, it felt right.
So not to embarass myself furtherly I looked away so quickly so sunddenly I thought I heard my neck crack, as if that isnt more embarassing! Whatever. I walked on took every step intently onto the bus and walked myself to the back, the very last row having my feet match my heartbeat as I walk. There it was, the leathery, beat up, mistreated, unappealing bus seat. but I knew i'd find a little comfort in it knowing no one sits in the back, no one can disturb this small privacy I loved. I should have thought again- I was dead wrong. The boy that had looked at me earlier whose name I had overheard to be Blake decided he liked the back as well, this was strange, as he was very attractive and his ranking would have been to go sit with the dimwads in the front- but no- there he sat, quitely , mysteriously, he looked at me as if he could see through me, through all of me- it was startling. Why did he look at me again? Maybe i'm just paranoid, he was probably looking through my window, which was obviously a better option than myself. Either way I didn't enjoy his sitting so close, no privacy and unexplainably it made my heart beat quicker. I didn't like it. I actually found myself peeking over my back pack to see if he's realized the mental message I was sending him through my mind to move. But no, he never received that message. But worst of all , all the girls from the front, the ones I detested most joined his seat, and the seat around his. Of course. I shouldn't expect anything less, I mean hes attractive and obviously new to school this year but I of course expect there to be some sort of exception that maybe just this once today would be a little less dreadful..and in a way it was. But I just wanted to have this small comfort time before the actual day begun. I didnt think that was too much to ask for. It was.
And so the school day begun I walked my way to my first period-History- I dragged my legs as I walked I couldnt help but be excited about learning more about dead people, I may not have the brightest outlook on life but come on- they're dead. Either way I sat down all the way In the back where I liked it then watched time go by finding ease by knowing the whole bus scenario was over. I heard my teacher Mrs. Weisner go on endlessly on school rules and the class syllabus then I realized how little sleep I truly had as I found myself zoning out. I closed my eyes for a minute I could have sworn to myself but to everyone else it was about twenty minutes. The second period bell rang just to prove me wrong. And the day progressed as typically as any other - second period now - there goes Marcie McClain with her hair tossing and rolling her shirt up just enough to show some skin for her crush Tom Lanus too bad for her that no matter how hard she tried he would always have his eyes elsewhere. Maybe it's because shes too obvious, and desperate, maybe its because shes just not his type. It dosent really matter but i've known this girl for years we used to be actual 'friends' in middle school when I was a much more shallow version of mysefl. No in reality I was just an all-around different person, the person I had always been, well untill Michael died. But when people hit highschool everything changes. I get it. Its life, I never expected any differently or at least I tell myself that so I wont be hurt more then I feel neccessary. That friendship is history but I do sheepishly admit I still keep tabs on her, on who shes become. And sometimes I try to picture my life still with her as a friend. But then I realize I would have had to turn into a completely different person. Someone I truly dislike. Someone I don't respect. It's not worth it.
"What are you looking at?" says Marcie in her bitter voice that screams for attention to me. "Nothing" I respond. Because truly Im staring at nothing. Looking at her, but im staring at nothing, the nothing she's become. I then direct my vision to the class clock...3...2...1. And it's off to third period. Science. I like science it may be the one thing I enjoy in school, or try to enjoy. I sit fourth row down towards the right, by the door it gives me a sence of security, a sence of escape. I get everything I need for the class neatly in order on my desk. Then I start doodling on my notebook in the hope to kill time while the teacher rants on about more useless school rules. Thats when I feel somebody tap my left shoulder. I turn reflexively, mostly shocked. Most people don't talk to me, let alone touch me, I guess my lonely ways are intimidating. No- people just think i'm wierd and leave me alone. But then again when have I cared what people think? Never. There he is again, Blake is five inches away from my face offering me my pen back, I guess it fell on the floor. This was a nice gesture right? Something normal, and irrelevant correct? Then why couldnt I find words to speak? Mute. I was mute. I just turned around and kept doodling I felt kind of rude but I was so out of place I couldnt find space in my head to care. But between those five inches I was able to see his hazel eyes that reminded me agonizingly of Michaels, same color, same shape. I caught my breath trying not to keep my composure, my careless composore that read "I don't care about anyone or anything." And to my disbeleif I made it through that science class in bearly one piece.